The Politics of
by Tinselcat
Summary: Rincewind's got several prices on his head, one comissioned by (gasp!) Lord Vetinari! what on the disc is going on? SLASH Rincewind/ Vetinari. unabridged version will be posted on my website for notification when that goes up, email me. FINISHED!!
1. Default Chapter

The Politics of. . .: ch. 1: Wizard-napping (version 2.0)  
  
by Tinselcat  
  
Summary: poor Rincewind has a problem. . .  
  
Rated: PG for language  
  
Disclaimer: Rincewind, The Luggage, Ankh-Morpork, Death and his horse Binky are all creations and property of Terry Pratchett. No profit is being obtained from use of these characters. Brian and Osten are my creations and property.  
  
Notes: alright, I realize a lot of people were expecting another chapter, but a reviewer pointed out to me that nothing can harm Sapient Pearwood. However, Brian has to get past the problem of the luggage, for plot reasons. So I liberally applied my Creative Writer's license and created a new species of dragon. I hope that doesn't upset too many people.  
  
**********************  
  
  
  
Rincewind was miserable.  
  
Granted, this wasn't uncommon, in his case. The only difference between his current misery and the sort of miserable tent under which he constantly huddled was that he had a much more distinct reason to be miserable than the fact that he was born. He looked across the innocent-looking stretch of bare dirt on the forest floor. His eyes travelled from the spot of dirt to the rusty, pitted sword that lay beside it.  
  
the dirt sort of burped in a contented manner. The Luggage shifted its weight from one set of feet to another, resulting in a thoughtful creaking sound.  
  
I SAY, GOOD SHOW. Complimented Death from his perch in a nearby tree. He whipped a small notebook from within his robes, along with a pen, NOW, WHAT WAS THAT? NUMBER THREE IN AS MANY DAYS?  
  
"go away." Said Rincewind, turning away from the spot of dirt which had, until quite recently been occupied by a thick, muscular barbarian-type who waved around a rusy, pitted sword and uttered dreadful threats in Rincewind's direction.  
  
REALLY, I'VE NEVER SEEN THE LIKE, continued Death amiably, THAT'S THREE PROFFESIONAL ASSASSINS DISPATCHED IN AS MANY DAYS. YOU SEEM TO HAVE A TALENT FOR THIS. IF ANYONE WANTS A DANGEROUS PERSON BUMPED OFF, ALL THEY NEED DO IS SEND HIM AFTER YOU.  
  
"I didn't mean to!" Rincewind whined, "I jumped over the quick-dirt, he stepped in it and sank. It's not my fault!"  
  
BUT STILL, THIS MUST BE SOME KIND OF RECORD. JUST LOOK AT MY NOTEBOOK, Death thrust the dog-eared little spiral-bound notebook toward Rincewind who could see that it was just packed with Death's neat handwriting. A COMPLETE ACCOUNT OF THE NUMBER OF TIMES YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED, BUT DIDN'T. TRULY INTREGUING. . .  
  
"please leave me alone now." Rincewind pleaded with the spectre that walked in time with him.  
  
VERY WELL. HOWEVER, I WOULD PONDER THIS ASSASSIN PROBLEM, IF I WERE YOU. VERY IRREGULAR.  
  
"I'll do that. Leave now."  
  
AS YOU WISH. Death gave a whistle which sounded like wind through leaf-bare branches, and his magnificent white charger trotted toward him. Swinging himself into Binky's saddle, Death silently rode into the sky.  
  
"he's right, you know." Said Rincewind to no one in particular, "three assassins in three days is strange." He sighed. For the upteenth time that day he asked himself "why me?"  
  
the Luggage snapped its lid on a bug, seeming content to simply amble along beside its master and enjoy what was truly a beautiful afternoon. The sun was out, it wasn't too warm, and a breeze played tag among the tree branches.  
  
Rincewind pondered his life for the past month. Everything seemed like a blur. One minute he was enjoying the rank smell of Ankh-Morpork, the next he had fallen afoul of some shady characters he'd met in an equally shady bar, and the moment he poked his head into the city, it was liable to be chopped off. It was certainly possible that the gang had been responsible for the recent attempts on his life, but these were people who, though able to navigate Ankh-Morpork unarmed for an entire night, without ending up with a knife in their backs, would probably run screaming at the first site of a tree. City-slickers to the core.  
  
So now here he was, wandering through the forest, grabbing food when he could, tightening his belt when he couldn't, and talking to himself frequently.  
  
After walking a bit more, he decided he was tired of it, and slumped down against a tree. The sun was approaching the horizon and, though the weather was still mildly warm, it had the smell of approaching night and a drop in temperature. The Luggage settled down, creaking and squeaking, beside him.  
  
Chilly, miserable and alone (as usual), he eventually fell asleep. He was awakened after what seemed like a rediciulously short time by a nearby crash, crunch and several swears.  
  
Sitting bolt upright, he stared hard into the blackness, waiting for the scarce moonlight to reach his eyes and allow them to adjust accordingly.  
  
"gods damn it all!"  
  
"er. . . pardon?" answered Rincewind hesitantly.  
  
"what?"  
  
"what?"  
  
"shit. Of all the stupid. . ."  
  
"um?"  
  
"look, just. . . just stay where you are. I'll be right over."  
  
Rincewind stayed put obediently, after weighing the possibility of being impaled on a sharp object if he ran blindly into the woods.  
  
There was a blinding flash of light. When the spots had cleared, Rincewind's eyes were drawn to a globe-shaped lantern sputtering to life. "there it is. Ah. That's better. next time, I stay on the ground." The person who spoke was rather short and perhaps a little strange-looking. She looked like a girl of perhaps 17 or 18, though decidedly short for her age. Her eyes were a yellow-green. Her hair, which hung below her shoulders, was pulled back loosely at the nape of her neck. Two streaks of bright-blue travelled back from her temples. She was dressed in loose breetches, pratical leather boots, a loose shirt and fitted vest. A belt which looked, on the whole, much to thick for her hips hung from them, and from it hung two longish knives as well as several pouches and pockets. She would have been entirely unintimidating, even with the knives, except for the fact that, strapped across her back, was a long-handled, large-headed mallet.  
  
Rincewind blinked wordlessly.  
  
"hallo, there. Would you mind terribly if I made a fire? I'm hungry and since I've managed to botch up my job of sneaking up on you by falling out of that godsforsaken tree, I might as well forget about stealth."  
  
"um. . ."  
  
she stuck two fingers in her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. A large, black and brown heavy horse, laden with bags, trotted into the clearing.  
  
"there you are, Osten." The girl turned toward Rincewind sharply, causing him to give a little jump, "Osten is short for Ostentatious. Isn't he a beauty? I certainly think so. Nice name, don't you think? Ostentatious? I have no idea why it suits him, but it does, and well at that." She gathered dry sticks as she spoke and soon had a quaint fire crackling. She snuffed her lantern and put it down. Unwrapping some unidentifiable meat from a package in one of the saddlebags, she stuck a piece on a stick and held it over the fire. "hungry?"  
  
"um. . ."  
  
"I'm famished myself. I've been searching for you for ages, without a break! Mother always did say I was always too busy, never did take a break. You know what I said? I said, 'mother', I said, 'I'm a busy girl with things to go and places to see and people to do.' No, wait, I said, 'I have places to go and people to see and things to do'. Yes, that certainly sounds appropriate, doesn't it? yes, I should say so." She squinted at him across the fire, "say, you *are* the wizard Rincewind, are you not?"  
  
"um. . . yes?"  
  
"oh good. Well, that's a relief, I certainly would have felt foolish if I had set myself up here only to find that you're a woodsman named Joe. There's a stick in my hair, I think."  
  
"Joe?"  
  
"Brian, actually."  
  
"pardon?"  
  
"That's my name. Brian. Boy, you really don't talk much, do you? probably the strong and silent type, though from here it looks like the strong part is a bit of an overstatement, but really, what do I know? I mean, we just met, it's not like we've already exchanged life stories, is it?"  
  
"Brian?"  
  
"short for Briannon Lucrecia Marita Jatina Etcetera."  
  
"that's your whole name?"  
  
"yes." Brian then buried her face in the now cooked piece of unidentifiable meat.  
  
"okay. Well then, very nice meeting you, I'm sure, but I think I'll be going now." he stood up, and was shocked to find that a short knife had buried itself in the tree just beside his head. He turned around and regarded Brian, who was still barely visible over her dinner.  
  
"I on't fink fo."  
  
"pardon?"  
  
she swallowed and paused in her eating long enough to say "I don't think so."  
  
"why not?"  
  
she finally polished off the meat and stood up, casually hefting her mallet, "well, there's a price on your head, you see. Big reward. I'm looking forward to a considerable payoff for you."  
  
"what?"  
  
"there's a price on your head and-"  
  
"no, I heard that part!"  
  
"well, then what's the question?"  
  
he paused, opening and closing his mouth several times in confusion. He finally looked down at the Luggage. It was up on its legs and seemed to be regarding him expectantly, "er, Luggage?"  
  
"*creak*"  
  
he pointed at the figure across from him, "sic 'er!"  
  
with the pounding of its tiny feet, the Luggage lurched forward, clearing the fire in a single bound, intent upon the threat to its master.  
  
"oh ho ho ho, that's how you want to play it, huh?" said Brian, deftly leaping out of the Luggage's path, "I came prepared for you, my friend." Discarding her mallet she reached into one of the pouches on her belt with one hand, and detatched from the saddle of her grazing horse what looked like a small cage. She thrust both objects in front of her defensively. Rincewind saw that it was a small dragon in the cage and a sheet of sandpaper. "back off, woody, I've got sandpaper, and I'm not afraid to use it! oh yeah, and I've got this little dragon, too, see?" she shook the cage a bit. The little creature sneezed a small fireball and looked reproachfully at its mistress.  
  
Rincewind popped up to his feet, stabbing a triumphant finger at Brian "Hah! That just shows how much you know!! Fire can't harm Sapient Pearwood!"  
  
Brian danced back, putting more distance between her and the ominously advancing luggage, "Fire from a dragon species from Klatch, evolved in an area of magical waste left over from the Mage Wars can harm Sapient Pearwood!"  
  
Rincewind gave a dismayed squeak.  
  
The luggage shuffled back a couple feet, then shuffled forward a bit. It repeated this several times, clearly unsure of how to proceed. Finally, exuding an air of extreme resentment, retreated and retracted its legs, settling comfortably on the ground.  
  
Rincewind sputtered at it.  
  
"Alright, wizard-boy," she snarled, a smile that was wholly disconcerting twisting her mouth, "we can do this my way, or the really hard and usually painful way." She paused thoughtfully, " Though sometimes those two ways end up being the same. Anyway," she continued, shaking her head, "what do you say? Coming quietly or do I open a big can of whup-ass on you?"  
  
***************  
  
okay, thus concludes "the politics of: wizard-napping, version 2.0", I hope everyone enjoyed it. I stated this in the story blurb, but just to be sure people get the message, I will repeat myself: if you are of an appropriate age (at least 17 or the legal age in your state/country/planet/etc.) you can email me if you want to be notified when the unabridged, NC-17 version of this fic is posted on my website. this becomes necessary because of the new restrictions at ff.net. if you are under-aged, I urge you to read responsibly, as this recent problem at ff.net is the result of minors viewing NC-17 fics, ruining it for the rest of us. okay, have I bitched enough yet? I think so. . .  
  
REVIEWS!! REEEEVIIIIIEEEWWWS!! Don't make me get my megaphone. . . 


	2. Bounty Hunting

The Politics of. . . Bounty-Hunting  
  
by Tinselcat  
  
Summary: you either want him, or want him dead. most likely the latter.  
  
Rated: PG for language  
  
Disclaimer: Rincewind, The Luggage, Ankh-Morpork, Death and his horse Binky are all creations and property of Terry Pratchett. No profit is being obtained from use of these characters. Brian and Osten are my creations and property.  
  
Notes: this chapter isn't very long or involved, but I felt obligated to get something up, because I've been slacking on my writing lately. Just wanted to let everyone know that I haven't forgotten about the story.  
  
**********************  
  
Rincwind stood still and tried as hard as he could not to be there.  
  
"sit down." Suggested Brian, as she seated herself, cross-legged, with the little dragon-cage in her lap. She pulled out a small piece of meat from her sack and nudged it through the bars, where the dragon applied itself in full, minuscule force.  
  
Rincewind plopped down. "why me?" he sighed miserably.  
  
"because, you piss people off." Replied Brian, who would most certainly fail to recognize a rhetorical question if it marched up to her and called her "shorty".  
  
"but. . . lots of people piss people off!" insisted Rincewind.  
  
"yeah, but lots of people don't set Ankh-Morpork on fire, and manage to anger quite a few rich merchants who have the money to spend on rewards, not to mention reward posters spread from here to the hub."  
  
"but. . . but. . ." sputtered Rincewind, positive that the blame should be put on Twoflower who was, at that time, enjoying a fruit drink in an upscale restaurant.  
  
"you've also got a reputation for getting into trouble, then getting out of it. which is why the reward is so big. That's also why the reward is half again as big if you're brought back dead."  
  
"d. . . d . . . dead. . ." Rincewind felt faint.  
  
"well, the exact amount varies on the merchant offering the reward, but the profit is hefty if someone mangages to kill you." she looked up at the sky thoughtfully as she fingered the handle of her mallet "let's see. . . one merchant wanted your head on a stick. No, two merchants wanted that. . . oh, and then there was one restaurant owner who wanted your head on a platter surrounded by lettuce and garnished with parsley. . . I think a couple wanted some limbs, or internal organs or something in addition to the head, they really are a creative bunch. I think there's another stick in my hair." She pursed her lips as she pulled the offending object from her locks. She then perked up as a thought hit her, which it had done several times that night, "I'm going to be rich."  
  
"ugn. . . uh. . . hu-huh. . ."  
  
"goodness, whatever's the matter?"  
  
now, there comes a point in a person's life that things pile up, one on top of another, each additional horror worse than the last and one just can't stand it anymore. For Rincewind, this had happened several times. This was one of them. In such circumstances there's really only one option. He drew himself up, straightened his hat took a deep breath and began to cry.  
  
Brian looked at him sharply, eyes wide, an extremely alarmed look on her face. Although a rather awkward individual, it was obvious to anyone who spent any extended period of time with her that she was relatively well- travelled, having made it through several of those sorts of experiences which are generally described as "character-building." As a result of these experiences, she had expected threats. Oaths, weapon-waving, swearing, insults, sexual harassment, bribes and violence she had all expected, and come prepared for. Outright, unashamed weeping was definitely not on the list. she began to get the look of an inexperienced babysitter faced with her first case of the "terrible-twos".  
  
She nervously cleared her throat, "er. . . look, see here, there's no reason for any of that. . ."  
  
Rincewind gave her a look as though she had suddenly sprouted a new head and proceeded into a new bout of sobs.  
  
"look," continued Brian, who started to look as though she thought Rincewind had the right idea, "I'm sure it's nothing personal. I mean, it's not *you*, it. . . okay, maybe it *is* you, but still, that's no reason to get upset about it. I'm sure it doesn't reflect upon your personality any, you could be a perfectly good person, I mean, what do a bunch of merchants know, anyway?"  
  
Rincewind looked at her as though she had sprouted a pair of wings and a tail to go with the extra head, "you want to know why I'm upset?" he asked in a hysterical, cracked tone of voice.  
  
"well, yes."  
  
"I'm in the middle of a forest, at night, I'm cold, I've just had three near-death experiences, and he can vouch for that personally, my luggage has lost its nerves, and to top it all off, I'm being threatened by a four- foot-nine female vagabond who's going to beat me to a bloody pulp with a big mallet, but save my head to present to the highest bidder!!" he wailed in despair, and threw himself on the ground as if it might give him some idea of what to do about it all.  
  
"oh, is *that* why you're upset?" a look of immense relief flooded Brian's features, "oh, good, for a moment I thought it was something important."  
  
Rincewind gave another wail that was more akin to the scream of one of the luggage's victims. "oh, really, you can stop that now, I'm afraid I havn't explained myself very clearly. You see, I'm not out here on any of those other bounties. I'm here on a private contract."  
  
Rincewind sat up and looked at her sharply from across the dwindling fire, "you are?"  
  
"yes."  
  
"are you going to kill me?"  
  
"nope. In fact, I've been given explicit instructions to keep you alive. I'm being paid twice the going rate to bring you back to Ankh-Morpork alive and unharmed."  
  
"what happens if I'm harmed?"  
  
"I get a percentage deduction for every injury. Big deductions if you're missing any limbs."  
  
"and if I'm dead?"  
  
"no reward. Though if you were, I could always visit one of those merchants."  
  
Rincewind seemed to deflate slightly, as his momentum was cut off, though he certainly wasn't protesting. In his experience, momentum led very quickly to action, adventure and excitement, so he was determined to avoid it where possible. However, he was still puzzled, "someone is paying you to keep me *alive*?" despite his protests, the news about the bounty and the merchants really hadn't surprised him. This did.  
  
"yes. Here, I'll show you," she popped up and bounced over to Ostentacious, who was industriously munching on a mouthful of sticks. She went up on her tip-toes and rummaged through one of her packs, dislodging a butterfly-shaped barrette, a small vial and several rubber bands. She finally snatched what she was looking for and held it triumphantly aloft, bringing it toward Rincewind. She trotted around the fire and plopped herself down next to him.  
  
Her raw, energetic enthusiasm made him want to edge away, though his curiosity kept him where he was.  
  
She unfolded a yellowed and rather tattered-looking piece of parchment which was stained with what looked suspiciously like blood and raspberry treacle. It was covered with small, neat writing. She had no sooner shoved it under Rincewind's nose that she snatched it back to take a look herself, "signed by Samuel Vimes himself, no less. He had to approve the contract, you know. I don't think he really liked the idea of putting a price on someone who hadn't technically done anything wrong, so he signed it. hmm. I kind of doubt he would have I had signed it first, what with the incident involving the exotic pet-shop last year. . . I hope he's not still mad about that. . ." she trailed off, staring at the paper, lips moving slightly.  
  
"ahem. . ."  
  
"hello? Yes?"  
  
"who's contract is it?"  
  
"yours, who do you think?"  
  
"I mean, who hired you? who drew up the contract?"  
  
she dangled the paper in front of his face, one chipped-nailed finger pointing to the curvy signature on the bottom of the paper, "Havelock Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork."  
  
**********************  
  
well, I said it was short, didn't I? Sorry for the lack of slashiness, we'll see if we can't bring it up a few notches in the next chapter. Don't worry, it will get naughty eventually, even if I have to abridge it to post it here. of course, all you adults know what to do in that situation, yes? If not, see the note at the end of the last chapter.  
  
Oooh, and let me know how I'm doing. I'm a bit concerned about my discworld writing, as this is my first discworld fic. 


	3. Low Budget Travel

The Politics of. . . Low-Budget Travel  
  
by Tinselcat  
  
Summary: the odd pair hit the open road and Vimes makes a brief appearance.  
  
Rated: PG for language  
  
Disclaimer: Rincewind, The Luggage, Ankh-Morpork, Samuel Vimes, Angua Von Uberwald, Death and his horse Binky are all creations and property of Terry Pratchett. No profit is being obtained from use of these characters. Brian and Osten are my creations and property.  
  
Notes: warning, this chapter also lacks in slashiness. I'm sorr-eeee!! But I promise there'll be some in the next chapter, there's no more holding it back, honest!!  
  
**********************  
  
"WHEEEEEEEN THEEEEEEEEE *gasp* moon hits your face, like a tur-tle in space, that's a MOR-AAAAAAAAYYY!!!!"  
  
Rincewind's fingers were starting to cramp up from the hold they had on the brim of his hat, which was held tightly over his ears. He made his forty- second oath that day that if he heard Brian sing another verse of that song that he would kill himself, then come back and kill her.  
  
They had been riding for the better part of a day, and Rincewind's rear was feeling the strain. He should have predicted that Ostentatious didn't have a proper saddle. Since Brian was so short, and Ostentatious so big, she would have had to do a horizontal split to ride the animal. Instead, she had strapped cushion to the horse's back and was seated comfortably, cross- legged. She would occasionally tap the horse's flank with long stick with a yarn tassel on the end, to remind him to keep going forward and no, they hadn't stopped noticing whether or not he was moving.  
  
"er. . . could I ask you a favor?" ventured Rincewind during one of Brian's gasps for breath.  
  
"mmm?"  
  
"d'you think you could stop singing?"  
  
"oh, sorry. Do you want me to sing something else? I know lots of songs, I know "Ode to Ankh-Morpork", the Lancre National Anthem, "When Klatchian Eyes are Smiling," "I Wanna Duck You Like an Animal. . ."  
  
"er, well, I was wondering if you could, er, stop. . ."  
  
"what, here? but we're coming out of the forest already, there's no point in stopping now."  
  
"I meant your singing. . ."  
  
"oh, do you have a request?"  
  
"a. . . no, no, could you-"  
  
"HALT THERE!!"  
  
Both riders fell silent and looked at the path ahead, where the booming voice had come from. Standing in the middle of the path was what was definitely a barbarian. He was large, muscled and garbed much like your average barbarian hero. However, the fact that everything he wore was black and rather spiky immediately labeled him as a villain.  
  
"yes? Can I help you?" inquired Brian curiously.  
  
The man hefted an alarmingly large battle-axe. "Bet you can, little lady, I'll bet you can. . ." he looked her (or, at least the small portion he could see of her around Osten's thick neck) up and down, leering appropriately.  
  
"well, state your business and be on, then, we haven't got all day." Huffed Brian.  
  
Rincewind ducked behind her and hoped that any pointy objects would miss him.  
  
"what's our business, boys?"  
  
several burly men of varying size and shape emerged from the conveniently- placed bushes on either side of the road. Like a pack of lumpy wolves circling in for the kill, they enclosed on Osten and his two riders.  
  
Rincewind, like the hardy, upstanding man he was, whimpered.  
  
"we'd like to relieve you of your burden, girly. . ." rasped another man with the face of an ugly rodent, only harrier.  
  
"and maybe you'd like to give us a little something in return. . .?" snickered another, waving a rusty, pitted sword at them.  
  
another one leered quite alarmingly at Rincewind, "I wouldn't mind giving this one a tussle or two before delivery." A third rasped, licking his lips at the petrified wizard.  
  
"guh. . . uh. . ."  
  
"a little something in return, you say?" Brian stroked her chin and peered at the party surrounding her. "I'm not so sure about that boys. . . I don't know if you can handle me. you see, I like it rough."  
  
The men's faces lit up in anticipation, "you like it rough, do you?"  
  
"oh yes. Very rough." She jerked a thumb at Rincewind who gave a little shriek, "so does he."  
  
"well, I think we can manage that, can't we boys?"  
  
"oh good. Silly me, I just can't resist a challenge." With those words, her wooden mallet seemed to magically appear in her hand, and the blur that her foot became hit the first barbarian square in the nose, with a sickening crack. As several swords were launched in her direction, she leapt straight into the air, landing neatly on the shoulders of one of the barbarians. As he thrashed about, trying to loosen the choking hold her legs had on his neck, she struck out left and right with her mallet, cracks accompanying each stroke. By the time her thrashing mount finally fell to his knees from lack of oxygen, they were surrounded by a group of unconscious and dead barbarians, most of them sporting broken bones, if not smashed to a pulp.  
  
Rincewind felt nauseous. He swayed in his seat, the world beginning to spin.  
  
Brian looked up at him from the ground, where she was delivering an extra kick or two to her prone competitors, "you don't look so good. Try putting your head between your knees."  
  
The largest of the barbarians groaned and shifted.  
  
Brian squatted down, thrusting her face inches away from his, "you boys are just lucky I'm a lady, and it's not dignified for a lady to lose her temper. Otherwise I would have been hard on you." haughtily tossing her hair over one shoulder, she sheathed her mallet on one of her saddlebags.  
  
Rincewind was soon distracted from his nausea at the spectacle of the short Brian trying to mount her impressive horse, who stood patiently the whole while, chewing on a piece of leather from one of the barbarians' loincloths.  
  
She first threw her arms over Osten's back and hooked one of her legs over as well. using the leverage, she managed to pull herself up, right over the horse's broad back, and over the other side, where she plopped back onto the dusty track. Quickly righting herself and acting as if that was exactly what she had meant to do, she tried the same thing and managed to steady herself on the horse's back, only facing the wrong way.  
  
Rincewind didn't quite know how to react to suddenly finding Brian sitting in his lap. Before he could gurgle his objection, she stood up and, after much grabbing of various handholds (including Rincewind's face and Osten's ears) she managed to face the right direction and settle herself.  
  
"well," she said, taking the reins and tapping Osten's flank with her makeshift riding crop, "shall we be off then?"  
  
Rincewind gave a noncommittal grunt.  
  
"spiffing. Let's go."  
  
They trotted off down the winding path, heading closer and closer to that sprawled lump of buildings and refuse known as Ankh-Morpork.  
  
******************  
  
It was evening when they finally passed through the gates into the city. The familiar smell wafted toward them, a scent that could make a strong man weep. Or pass out cold. Or die, for that matter. The streets were, as always, still bustling, people finishing work for the day, others starting, the evening market shoppers making their rounds to the less-conventional stalls that didn't keep normal hours.  
  
Brian, for the sake of appearances, had tied Rincewind's hands behind his back. "what kind of impression would I make on people if you were just free to hop off the horse and go where you please?" she reasoned.  
  
They were passing the City Watch Headquarters when a distinct and familiar voice called at them to halt.  
  
Brian turned in the saddle to see the figure striding purposefully toward them, "Samuel Vimes!!" she squealed in a strange mixture of nervousness and delight, "well, fancy meeting you here! long time no see!"  
  
"well, I'd sort of hoped it'd been longer. . ." he growled at her, sticking a cigar in his mouth and lighting it.  
  
"silly, you don't mean that!"  
  
"look, I'm only going to tell you once, so listen up: let the wizard go. There, have I made myself clear?"  
  
Brian, enjoying herself immensely, leaned forward, "why should I let him go? I'm here on legitimate city business."  
  
"arrest her! She's insane!" burst out Rincewind in desperation.  
  
"I intend to." replied Vimes. "look, the Patrician is after this wizard, and you will release him into my custody. Or do I sic Angua on you?"  
  
"ooooh, Sammy darling, you cannot touch me." she rummaged in one of her bags, dislodging several more rubber bands, and pulled out the contract, "read 'em and weep, copper! Or isn't that your signature on the bottom. . .?"  
  
Vimes, recognizing the contract, went livid, "you?! he hired you?"  
  
"well, who else could do the job better?"  
  
"don't make me answer that. . ."  
  
"aw, come on, can't we let bygones be bygones. . .?"  
  
"the Pancake-House incident will not quietly become a bygone. . ."  
  
Brian stabbed a finger at Vimes, "hey, that was *not* my fault!!"  
  
"it took us three, repeat, three days to pry the ambassador off of the ceiling!"  
  
"it was his own fault." Sniffed Brian, "anyways, you can't arrest me for that now, take a look at the contract, I've got immunity as long as I'm on this job."  
  
Vimes glowered at her, but handed her the contract and admitted, "fine. The order for your arrest is temporarily suspended until such time as your job is finished."  
  
"see, now that wasn't too hard, was it?"  
  
Vimes thrust a finger in Brian's face and waggled it warningly, "don't push it, Ms. Etcetera, or need I remind you of the exotic-pet shop encounter. . ."  
  
Brian shifted nervously in her seat, "it's not like anyone got hurt. . ."  
  
Vimes raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I wasn't stealing them, besides. I was. . . er. . . *liberating* them!"  
  
Vimes snorted and waved them on, giving Ostentatious a hearty slap on the rear for good measure. "what a grouch." Brian remarked as they rode toward the palace.  
  
"so you're going to be arrested, then?" Rincewind pursed his lips, imagining freedom from the little maniac.  
  
She shrugged, "I dunno. I've got some friends I stay with every time I'm in Ankh-Morpork, who can probably get me out of it."  
  
"legally?"  
  
"mmm. . . maybe. . ."  
  
"where do they live?"  
  
"palace district, uptown. Big place. Plenty of places for me to lurk until Vimes cools his head." Rincewind sighed. Soon. soon the nightmare would be over, though the waking from this one would probably, given his luck, be the start of a new one. they approached the gates to the palace complex. Brian displayed the contract with the Patrician's signature to the guards. The huge doors creaked open, and they rode inside.  
  
****************  
  
so, reviews, as always, are encouraged. Let me know how I'm doing and how I'm writing for the characters, as its still a concern of mine. Remember, if you are old enough to read the unabridged version of this fic, email me and I'll notify you of when that goes up on my webpage. From the looks of things, it may be a couple weeks, but rest assured that it will happen.  
  
By now you've probably noticed that I don't go back and edit capitalization. I'm much more concerned with the writing aspect. Thank you for notifying me of my capitalization mistakes, but that's something I don't really worry about. I hope this doesn't cause any brain aneurysms.  
  
I'd also like to thank VimesLady for her helpful input and email correspondence. I appreciate it, dudette! 


	4. Political Inprisonment v20

The Politics of. . . Political Imprisonment  
  
by Tinselcat  
  
Summary: Vetinari makes the first move, Rincewind is confused. Not necessarily in that order.  
  
Rated: PG for language  
  
Disclaimer: Rincewind, The Luggage, Ankh-Morpork, Samuel Vimes, Angua Von Uberwald, Drumknott Death and his horse Binky are all creations and property of Terry Pratchett. No profit is being obtained from use of these characters. Brian and Osten are my creations and property.  
  
Notes: I feel very silly. In this chapter, I forgot to put death's dialogue in all capitals. I realize that I'm being blatantly hypocritical here, as I never go back to correct punctuation and capitalization and such, but it just bothered me, so I had to correct it. oh, and another chapter should be up soon, I'm working on it.  
  
**********************  
  
Rincewind walked silently and, as always, miserably between the two beefy guards who escorted him down the hall. He almost preferred the company of the hyperactive shrimp compared to the two silent, obelisk-like men who escorted him down the hall. However, she and him had already parted company. She had bounced off with another guard and an official who was to show her to her reward.  
  
"bye-bye, Rince-a-thing! Been great working with you! watch that blood pressure!" were her cheery parting words.  
  
"ugn." Were Rincewind's.  
  
the luggage, feeling rather neglected in light of recent events, shuffled obediently after the solomn trio, idly wondering if it would be worth it to bite off any legs belonging to any guards.  
  
"there you are." Came a voice from a hall ajoining the one they were currently marching along. Rincewind turned to see Drumknott, Lord Vetinari's aide, walking briskly toward them. "I trust Ms. Etcetera has fulfilled her part?"  
  
"yessir." Replied one of the guards.  
  
"good. And the wizard is unharmed?" he looked down at Rincewind who no longer took offense when people talked about him as if he weren't in the room.  
  
"yessir. We were just about to show him into the throne room, sir."  
  
"I'm afraid Lord Vetinari is indisposed at the moment with matters of state. It is late, besides, and I'm sure Mr. Rincewind is exhausted from his trip.  
  
Rincewind could honestly say that he could very easily jump through a window at the present moment, and not stop running until he reached the rim, but declined to do so.  
  
"You may undo his bonds. I will show you to his quarters" Drumknott spun on his heel and marched briskly down the corridor.  
  
The guards bungled over each other in an effort to untie Rincewind's bonds at the same time as keeping up with the swift, efficient Drumknott.  
  
They wound through several corridors, up several flights of stairs before stopping at a large door in a well-lit, richly-tapestried and carpeted hall. One of the guards opened the door to reveal a well-furnished and comfortable bedroom, complete with a fire already crackling. Rincewind hesitantly followed Drumknott inside, leaving the guards at the door.  
  
"this is one of the guest's quarters. You will be residing here during your stay, although you're official status is that of a dangerous prisoner."  
  
"b-but I'm not dangerous!" protested Rincewind.  
  
"indeed?" answered Drumknott, raising an eyebrow. "I trust you'll find everything here to you comfort. If something is amiss, you may inform one of the guards outside the door, who will see that it is attended to. you will not be permitted to leave this room until such time as you are summoned by Lord Vetinari to discuss your present position." Drumknott nodded once to Rincewind and exited the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
there was a click of a key being turned in a lock, and silence. Rincewind stood in the middle of the room feeling distinctly out of his element. This room was. . . well, it was nice-looking, warm, comfortable, and even had an attatched lavatory. He was completely unaccustomed to such surroundings, even from his Unseen University days. There was a padded chair beside the fire with several clean robes sitting folded on it. the cloth-draped table even had a bowl of fruit on it. Rincewind cautiously peered around the curtains and into the shadowed corners for lurking assasins. He found none. He did find, however, a small white kitten curled up on one of the pillows on the bed, purring contentedly. The luggage shuffled around once, and settled itself in a corner, looking as if it were made to sit there.  
  
Having nothing else to do, Rincewind, cautiously and with much looking about, shed his robe in favor of the simple white cotton gown folded on top of the other robes on the chair. Plunking his hat on the luggage, making it look rather rakish, he crawled under the covers.  
  
The disc could have cracked down the middle then and there, but nothing would have been able to dislodge the warm daze his mind settled into once he sunk into the mattress.  
  
The kitten yawned and curled up on his face. It had to be discouraged three times before finally settling itself on the wizard's narrow chest.  
  
Rincewind slid into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
**********************  
  
"Mr. Rincewind? Sir? Are you awake?"  
  
the voice, accompanied by a knocking on the door after what seemed a cruel and unusually short time period. Rincewind groaned and flopped over. The kitten took a half-hearted swipe at his head in protest.  
  
"Sir, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork is waiting to meet with you. I suggest you clothe yourself and come out.  
  
Rincewind opened his eyes and furrowed his brows at his surroundings. He was. . . comfortable. . . how the bloody hell had that happened? The memory of the previous day hit him like a bolt and he promptly fell off of the bed.  
  
"Sir? Is everything alright?"  
  
"Gnah!" answered Rincewind, rubbing his nose where it had impacted the floor.  
  
"I would not like to keep the Patrician waiting. . ."  
  
"gnuh. . . " Rincewind heaved himself up and grumpily grabbed the robes that had been left out on the chair, throwing them on. he paused before opening the door, grabbed his hat, stuck it firmly on his head, gestured to the luggage and exited into the hallway. He glared at Drumknott.  
  
"I trust you slept well."  
  
"mmn. . ."  
  
"follow me, please."  
  
"hmph."  
  
They went up a set of stairs, along a passage and before long they stood before the large double-doors that led into the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork's private chambers.  
  
He hesitated before entering through the door that Drumknott held open for him. It creaked on its hinges, which almost always resulted in unpleasant experiences involving large stone mansions and indignant undead.  
  
Drumknott cleared his throat.  
  
Rincewind retorted with a throat-clearing of his own.  
  
"sir. . ."  
  
"yes?"  
  
"Lord Vetinari awaits you. . ."  
  
"does he now? well, good for him."  
  
"sir,"  
  
Rincewind had had quite enough at this point. He had spent the last month wet and cold, been ambushed in the middle of the night by a hyperactive midget with a mallet, advanced upon by barbarians, tied up, dragged about Ankh-Morpork and they expected him to just do as they said? Sometimes even Rincewind had to put his skinny foot down. "what? You want me to go in there? Well, let me tell you, I'm sick and tired of being dragged about! The bloody Patrician of bloody Ankh-Morpork can bloody well rot in there! I have a sense of self-preservation to indulge, so if you'll excuse me. . ." he spun on his heel, "Luggage, come!"  
  
He looked down. The luggage was playing with a small marmalade-colored kitten, who purred loudly as it chases The Luggage's shuffling feet.  
  
"a. . . heh. . ." said Rincewind as he realized that the Luggage could not be more oblivious to his plight. He gave a high-pitched, nervous chuckle, "you know, perhaps we can discuss thi-"  
  
That was all he had time to say before fingers like steel rope wrapped upon itself closed themselves over his shoulders, lifted him clear off the ground, and casually tossed him into the room, where he landed in a heap with his rump in the air. The Luggage bumped blindly into it as it hastened after its master. This propelled Rincewind to tumble forward, head-over- heels, until his progress was halted by his head as it impacted with a table-leg.  
  
"Gnaaaaah!!" protested Rincewind into the carpet in which he found his face.  
  
He heard footsteps, muffled by the carpet, come round the table and stop beside him. he opened his eyes and became aquainted with a pair of nondescript black leather shoes.  
  
"Are you alright?" came the calm, composed voice from above him.  
  
"oh, of course I'm alright." He griped, rolling over, "I've just been rear- ended by a piece of baggage with an identity problem, and had a minor disagreement with a table leg, and I do believe I have a concussion, but I'm fine, really, I'm sure I'll recover in a year or two, or maybe die in my sleep, but we'll see, shan't we, hmm?" he looked up through one eye, the other being obscured by his hat which flopped over it.  
  
he immediately regretted his hasty words when he observed Lord Vetinari standing over him like a patient vulture. The Patrician raised a thin eyebrow. He turned and walked back around the table, seating himself "do be seated, Mr. Rincewind." He said, gesturing to the chair opposite him, "I was just finishing my morning meal. Help yourself."  
  
Rincewind, keeping a nervous eye on Vetinari, took a seat. He idly wondered if he could watch the Patrician's every move while at the same time trying to determine if he was about to be poisoned. He gave up trying when he got a headache and the Patrician gave him an odd look.  
  
"I gather you're wondering why you have been brought here." the patrician folded his long fingers over each other and rested them next to his plate.  
  
"erm, well, yes. . ." Rincewind eyed the platter of toast, jam and assorted fruits.  
  
"I feel I must apologize for your hasty collection, but time was of the essence. The merchants' guild was about to sign a contract with the Assassin's guild to secure your capture and execution."  
  
Rincewind made a strange strangled sound in his throat.  
  
"I assure you that my motivations for drawing up the contract for your safe capture are not so dire. The Wizards' guild is quite upset about the incident, as is Commander Vimes of the City Watch."  
  
Rincewind raised his hand.  
  
Vetinari's brows furrowed slightly before he said, "yes. . ." as if unsure of exactly how he was expected to respond to the gesture.  
  
Rincwind lowered his hand, "why would the Wizards' guild be concerned?"  
  
"I am made to understand that they fear it will make a bad impression upon them to foreigners. What with trade negotiations with several nations happening next month, and this being the best season for sailing ships, they are concerned that the leaders of other nations will regard the issue as a statement upon the Unseen University and guild in general."  
  
Rincewind raised his hand again.  
  
"yes?" replied Vetinari with slightly more conviction this time.  
  
"And the City Watch?"  
  
"I believe the notion of an entire guild of assassins being sent to secure the murder of a single citizen is quite contrary to the morals of Commander Vimes. It is his job, after all, to see that justice is being served on the streets of the city."  
  
Rincewind's hand shot up again, as if of its own accord.  
  
Vetinari sighed "yes?"  
  
"where the bloody hell did you dig up that. . . er. . . um. . . what is that. . . girl? Brian?"  
  
Vetinari nodded "I expected to have to explain her. She can be. . . intimidating." He idly took a crust from his plate and handed it down to Wuffles who was sniffing nearsightedly at his shoes. "She is a quarter dwarf. She is also an honorary member of the thieves' guild and a professional tracker."  
  
"is that a profession?"  
  
"it is if one charges for it. she specializes in items which have been lost or stolen, family heirlooms, children, pets and such. She found a disappeared grandfather clock for one of my advisors."  
  
"oh."  
  
"do you understand, then, why you are being held here? it is as much for your own protection as anything else."  
  
"yeah, I understand." He noticed an odd tugging at the laces of his boots and looked down to find yet another kitten batting them about between its front paws. "erm. . . may I ask a question?"  
  
Vetinari sipped his tea, "yes."  
  
"what's with all the cats?"  
  
"they showed up in the throne room one morning."  
  
". . . they just showed up?"  
  
"yes."  
  
Suddenly, time seemed to slow, Vetinari's hand frozen in the air as it raised his cup to his lips. A rift in the space-time continuum appeared to Rincewind's right, and Death popped his head through. ABOUT THE KITTENS, SOME HORRIBLE LOUT WAS ABOUT TO DROWN THEM IN THE ANKH, SO I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF TRANSPORTING THEM SOMEPLACE WHERE THEY WOULD BE CARED FOR.  
  
"what happened to the horrible lout?" asked Rincewind out of pure, morbid curiosity.  
  
WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY, Death seemed to grin a little wider than usual, WHAT GOES AROUND, COMES AROUND. IT MAY BE QUITE SOME TIME BEFORE THEY RECOVER HIS BODY.  
  
Rincewind gurgled.  
  
I SIMPLY WON'T STAND FOR CRUELTY TO CATS. Muttered Death, more to himself than anyone else, as he withdrew his head, and the rift closed with a zipping sound.  
  
Vetinari took another sip of tea. "I do hope you'll excuse me now, I have some matters to attend to. feel free to roam about the estate as you wish, there will be a guard with you at all times."  
  
"oh. Er. . . thank you for, um, for not killing me."  
  
the corner of Vetinari's mouth stretched to the side curiously. It took Rincewind a moment to realize that it was a small, half-smile. Vetinari suddenly leaned forward. His hand shot out and grasped Rincewind by the back of his neck, pulling him toward him. Vetinari abruptly pressed his lips to Rincewind's, the latter giving a confused "mmmph?" sound.  
  
Rincewind blinked several times in utter confusion before Vetinari released him.  
  
"you're welcome." Said the patrician, still with an odd mischievous smile on his face, as he rose and exited the room.  
  
Rincewind slumped in his chair, shock sinking into his limbs.  
  
What the bloody hell just happened?  
  
**************  
  
what did happen? Did he hallucinate that, or did vetinari really kiss him? was it good for him, too? Find out the answers in. . . THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!  
  
Okay, self-promotion said, I want to know how I'm writing for Vetinari and Drumknott. I've only read two books with Vetinari in them, both in a very minor capacity, and I havn't read any books with Drumknott. I'd really appreciate feedback having to do with those two characters.  
  
Thanks a heap! 


	5. HighSociety Sex

The Politics of. . . High-Society Sex  
  
by Tinselcat  
  
Summary: Rincewind ponders his situation and Vetinari gets horny  
  
Rated: R for sexual situations  
  
Disclaimer: Rincewind, The Luggage, Ankh-Morpork, Samuel Vimes, Angua Von Uberwald, Drumknott Death and his horse Binky are all creations and property of Terry Pratchett. No profit is being obtained from use of these characters. Brian and Osten are my creations and property.  
  
Notes: sorry it's been so long between updates, I was finishing up another story, and had to get it done. Now that it is, I can focus more on this fic, although I'm not quite sure where it's going. Ah well, I'll figure it out. Anyway, enjoy.  
  
**********************  
  
Rincewind wandered aimlessly in the palace garden. He seriously doubted that the Patrician ever took the time to enjoy it, but that aspect of Lord Vetinari was one that couldn't be further from his mind.  
  
"he kissed me. . ." murmured Rincewind for the umpteenth time that day, causing his stoic guard to give him an uncharacteristic confused look. Rincewind suddenly turned to the guard, which for reasons undiscovered, unsettled the large man greatly, "what if it was some sort of political code for something? Like a handshake, or an assassination." Rincewind mused to the guard's pectoral muscles. The skinny wizard turned around and began walking again. He stopped suddenly, his guard almost running into him. "what if it means he's going to kill me? what if I'm going to die after all?!" Rincewind's voice cracked with panic, and he gave a startled scream at an equally startled granite statue of a nymph.  
  
It was at this time that his reverie was interrupted that he noticed a very distincive sound, one that he would never, for the rest of his life, be able to mistake for anything else. It wasn't the luggage, however.  
  
"I'M looking over, a four leaf CLOVER, that IIIIIII over-looked be- *gasp* FOOOOOOOORE!"  
  
Rincewind, with mounting horror, crept toward the bush out of which the abhorrent sound seemed to be coming.  
  
"ONE leaf for SUN-SHIIIINE, the other for *gasp* RAAAAAAIIIIN!! One for the FLOWERS that grow in the *gasp* LAAAAAAAANE!!!"  
  
he rounded the bush and found, sitting contentedly on a stone bench on the other side, mercilessly mutilating a small harp, the familiar shortness of Brianna Lucretia Marita Gregarious Etcetera.  
  
"b-Brian?" he asked, in the minuscule hope that he was hallucinating.  
  
"RINCE-wind!!" she shrieked happily as she swiveled to look at him.  
  
"w-what. . . what. . . you. . . bloody hell. . ."  
  
she hopped up and grinned, "oh, didn't I mention to you that I had a friend I stayed with whenever I was in Ankh-Morpork?"  
  
"and that friend is. . ."  
  
"Lucky."  
  
"is he?"  
  
"No, that's his nickname. It's short for Havelock."  
  
Rincewind felt faint, "Havelock. . ."  
  
"Vetinari, of course, don't you keep up with politics? I thought he was supposed to have lunch with you or something."  
  
"er, well, yes. . ."  
  
"how was it?"  
  
"oh, just fine." He suddenly gave himself a mental slap across the face. "Wait, what the hell are you doing calling the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork 'Lucky'?!"  
  
"well, because it annoys him."  
  
"but. . . but how would you possibly be put into a position where that would become an option in the first place?!" he was nearly hysterical at this point and felt the enormous burden of resisting the desire to wring Brian's neck.  
  
"oh, well, I found this dreadful old clock for one of Lucky's advisors, and he hired me when his dog wandered out of the palace and got lost. Took me forever to find the smelly little bugger too. You'd think that finding a short-sighted, ugly, smelly dog would be easy. Well, let me tell you a few things about the Ankh-Morpork city watch, goodness, are they ever touchy about invasions on their turf, and what with that werewolf on the watch, you'd think they wanted to scare people off. Maybe that's the point after all, I mean, you do have to be intimidating for some job like that, right?" she stared up at Rincewind, whose eyes had gone blank. "right? right?"  
  
Rincewind shook his head. "oh, er, right, of course." He realized he forgot what his original question was, and found that he really didn't want to pursue it, as far as it meant listening to the short maniac any longer. He abruptly turned around and started to walk away.  
  
To his extreme chagrin, she followed him. "I'm going out later today to pay homage to the goddess Knut at her temple. I don't think she's very well known. She's the goddess of things-that-you-need-in-a-hurry-but-can't-find- no-matter-how-hard-you-look-so-you-have-to-go-to-your-engagement-without-it- and-are-subsequently-late-but-it-turns-up-a-week-later-in-your-underwear- drawer."  
  
"oh." Grunted Rincewind, entertaining the notion of seppuku.  
  
"her husband's temple is on the opposite side of the courtyard to hers. His name is Kase. He's the god of sock-that-has-no-pair-that-you-don't-throw- away-because-you-think-you-still-might-find-the-other-one-so-it-just-sort- of-sits-there. You know what happens when they make passionate love?"  
  
"nugh." Rincewind wondered how hard it would be to impale himself on a bush.  
  
"well, when they make passionate love, they combine into one great, sexless deity called," she took a deep breath and clasped her hands to her heart, "Knut-Kase."  
  
"so's yer mum."  
  
"what was that?"  
  
"nothing."  
  
"oh. So, anyway, they become this great god Knut-Kase, but eventually it gets in a row with itself, and they separate again until the next time they make passionate love."  
  
Rincewind was tentatively curious about what Knut-Kase was the deity of, but decided that he was probably better off not knowing.  
  
"soooo, how was breakfast with the Patrician, hmmm?" she skipped along beside him, giving him a slight nudge in the ribs.  
  
"um. . . fine. . ."  
  
"nothing. . . unexpected happened, did it?"  
  
"n-no."  
  
"you sure?"  
  
"yes."  
  
"real sure?"  
  
"yes."  
  
"positively sure?"  
  
"yes."  
  
"absolutely su-"  
  
"YES!!"  
  
"well, there's no reason to yell about it, I was just asking." She sniffed. "anyway, I should get going. As the day goes on, the priests of Knut tend to get confused, so it's best to get there either early, or late, unless you want to end up holding their sacred staffs for them while they rummage around in search of the Fated Incense of Time." she winked at him "have a nice. . . evening. . ." sniggering to herself, she turned and walked into a bush. She swore several times, untangled herself, picked a couple sticks from her hair, and wandered off, eventually ending up in another bush, as it turned out.  
  
Rincewind, casting periodic furtive glances toward his guard, wandered about the palace in search of his quarters. After several hours, he managed to find it and, giving the guard a suspicious look to make sure that he wouldn't follow him in, entered his room and flopped in a chair. He idly wondered what was to become of him. Whatever it was, he probably wouldn't like it. He never liked it. Something bad was always happening to him. Things never changed in that respect.  
  
Though, throughout the rest of his calm afternoon, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was wrong.  
  
*******************  
  
"Lord Vetinari wishes that you dine with him again tonight. He expects you have more questions, and regrets that your conversation this morning had to be cut short by pressing matters of state." drumnknott had managed to say the entire thing without looking at Rincewind.  
  
Rincewind grumbled something unintelligable, but stood up and followed the man. He could tell that they were once more heading toward Vetinari's chambers. His mind immediately jumped back to that startling kiss. What the hell had that been about, anyway? Was he about to find out?  
  
*hallo, there.* came a voice from inside his head.  
  
*what? Who are you?* he answered back.  
  
*guess.*  
  
*err. . . my conscience?*  
  
*hardly. Your conscience is busy trying to make a list of Ms. Brian's redeeming features, and is currently at a standstill.*  
  
*then who the bloody hell are you?*  
  
*I'm your libido. Your mojo. The little voice inside your pants that you always ignore. Well, I'll have you know that I won't stand for it anymore! That little peck from this morning has whet my appetite!*  
  
*stuff it! I have no appetite! I'm a wizard, the idea is repellent.*  
  
*is it, now? we'll see about that, soon enough.* the voice fell silent.  
  
Rincewind felt that he had yet to hear more from his stifled subconscious.  
  
Vetinari stood as Rincewind entered the room, "welcome. Please, sit down." He nodded to Drumknott who exited and closed the door behind him.  
  
Rincewind noticed that while the plate at his seat was piled high, lord Vetinari's was empty, but for several bread-crumbs. Rincewind idly wondered if he had some sort of phobia about other people seeing him eat.  
  
"I feel I have some explaining to do about the incident this morning." he leaned back in his chair and swirled a cup of wine in his hand.  
  
"w-what incident?" squeaked Rincewind with a hysterical chuckle.  
  
Vetinari raised a thin, black eyebrow, "shall I remind you?"  
  
"GAH! Uh, oh, *that* incident, yes, of course, I was wondering about that." He instinctively reached for the closest alcoholic drink, which was his cup of expensive wine.  
  
"do you recall the incident involving Cohen the Barbarian's siege on the Cori Celesti?"  
  
"yes?" answered Rincewind, hoping that he was giving the right one.  
  
"we spoke briefly on that occasion, I'm not sure if you recall. . ."  
  
Rincewind nodded, his mouth full of wine.  
  
"I must admit, you made quite an impression on me, although the conversation was short-lived."  
  
"er, what sort of impression?" asked Rincewind's libido before he could stop it.  
  
*will you stay out of this?*  
  
*not a chance in hell. Look at his eyes.*  
  
*they're half-closed. What about them?*  
  
*he's giving you bedroom-eyes, moron! Now, wink or lick your lips or something! We can't let him lose interest!*  
  
*what's this 'we' you speak of? 'we' are not doing anything, got it?*  
  
*hmph. We'll just see about that.*  
  
"you know, I'm not exactly sure of the cause of this impression." Said Vetinari, placing his cup back on the table, his mouth twisting into another half-smile, "some might call it alchemy or magic. I think the term that fits best is. . . chemistry."  
  
"oh. Er, does it?"  
  
Vetinari nodded, not taking his eyes of the nervous wizard, who was feeling something stirring inside him that he was quite sure wasn't supposed to be stirring. Not for a wizard. The idea was positively improper!  
  
*yeah, but it feels good, don't it?*  
  
*shaddap!*  
  
*you're just dying to know what he looks like without that black robe, aren't you?*  
  
*no! I'm not!*  
  
*don't you just want to rip it off? Find out if he wears cologne?*  
  
*I doubt if he-*  
  
*wonder what color his drawers are?*  
  
*No! I refuse to think about that!!*  
  
*they're probably black. . . hmm, maybe satin. . .*  
  
"don't get me wrong," continued Vetinari, oblivious to Rincewind's internal argument with himself, "this wasn't the principle reason I had you brought here once hearing of the price on your head. However, now that I have you here, I see no reason to let a certain. . . opportunity pass me by. Do you understand?"  
  
*YES!! YES!! GODS, YES!!*  
  
*STICK A SOCK IN IT!!* "w-well I. . ." Rincewind, unable to take his eyes from Vetinari, fiddled nervously with the tie on his robe. He had a sudden, wild urge to ask Vetinari to undo it for him.  
  
Vetinari suddenly stood up, causing Rincewind to jump in his seat. The patrician strode purposefully around the table. As if of their own accord, Rincewind's legs also straightened, bringing him to eye-level with Vetinari. They stood there, noses inches away from each other, for several moments. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, Vetinari grabbed Rincewind's shoulders and pressed his lips against the wizards, at the same time Rincewind's hands came up to grasp the front of the patrician's robes.  
  
Vetinari's tongue pushed past Rincewind's lips, which parted eagerly. Rincewind found his fingers fumbling at the buttons on Vetinari's collar. The pair, by way of an awkward, four-legged shuffle, managed to get through the door in the back of the room which led into the patrician's sleeping quarters, pausing only for Vetinari to pin Rincewind against the door as he fumbled with the nob. Rincewind had only a moment to admire the richly furnished room before, with one swift movement, he was tossed on his back onto the bed.  
  
"really," he said breathlessly in between kisses, "I wouldn't have figured you for a . . . a wall-hangings type of person. . ."  
  
Vetinari paused thoughtfully, "you know, I did have one of those bare- walled suites for quite some time. the mattress was liken to a rock and it was freezing in the winter. No insulation. I. . . had it redecorated." He raised an eyebrow, "I trust you approve."  
  
Before Rincewind could say that he would approve of a blanket on the floor, Vetinari's mouth engulfed his own once more. As a last, desperate defense against completely losing control, his mind sought for some drawback which would make him regret this move later on. and found it. "wait!" he suddenly cried, bracing his hands against Vetinari's chest, "wizard!"  
  
"what?"  
  
"I mean, I can't! because I'm a wizard! It's just not allowed!" his stomach sank in dissappointment. He really had been looking forward to seeing what Vetinari looked like under that robe. . .  
  
Vetinari snorted at this and sat back, straddling Rincewind's waist. "I see it this way:" he started, calmly, "there are two foremost reasons why a wizard is not allowed to partake in sexual conduct:"  
  
Rincewind idly wondered if Vetinari carried a book of helpful intelligent- sounding phrases around with him. he then realized that a man like Vetinari probably wouldn't need it.  
  
"reason number one: such conduct would be frightfully distracting to a wizard, which might then result in some rather. . . alarming magical developements. Since you're not, at the moment, practicing magic and don't seem to have any long-term plans to, I think you needn't worry about that point."  
  
"and the other one?"  
  
"oh yes, the problem of sourcery. Well, unless one of us is keeping a very big secret, I doubt we have to worry about that."  
  
"oh. So that's it, then?"  
  
"indeed."  
  
"jolly good. Shall we carry on?"  
  
Vetinari answered him by untying Rincewind's robe and pulling it off his shoulders, only to expose another layer of clothing. He gave a feral growl and went about pulling off the various items of clothing which wore Rincewind.  
  
*****************  
  
Rincewind lay prone on the cushions, trembling slightly. Vetinari grabbed his discarded under-shirt and wiped up the milky liquid which coated the insides of Rincewind's legs and his own face and chest.  
  
"well, how did you find it?" he inquired, moving up to lay beside Rincewind.  
  
"guh. . . uh. . . huh. . ."  
  
"that's what I thought. I think perhaps the more. . . intense. . . experimentations should wait until later, hm?"  
  
"uh. . . uuh. . ."  
  
Vetinari covered them both with the thick blankets and kissed Rincewind once more on the mouth before curling up beside him and closing his eyes. No, being the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork surely wasn't all that bad. Not bad at all.  
  
*****************  
  
well, in case you couldn't tell, quite a sizeable chunk of that story was edited out. Which is a shame because I had a lot of fun writing it! as far as erotic scenes go, this one is rather silly, involving four spectators of varying interests in the proceedings. No, the unabridged version isn't on my site yet, it will go up once the story is finished, then I'll be sending out the email.  
  
As usual, I'm going to whine and carry on until I get reviews. This means YOU!! go! Review! Now! quick! Now! review! Go! Review! Quick! Now! now! review! Before the '!' key on my keyboard breaks! 


	6. Politics

The Politics of. . . Politics  
  
by Tinselcat  
  
Summary: Rincewind tries, unsuccessfully, to avoid Brian, and has another. . . ahem. . . close encounter with Vetinari.  
  
Rated: R for sexual situations  
  
Disclaimer: Rincewind, The Luggage, Ankh-Morpork, Samuel Vimes, Angua Von Uberwald, Drumknott Death and his horse Binky are all creations and property of Terry Pratchett. No profit is being obtained from use of these characters. Brian and Osten are my creations and property.  
  
Notes: okay, I confess that I've been neglecting this story as of late, and I feet terrible about it. it's just that I got halfway through the. . .er. . . "intimate" scene and BOOM!! Writer's block sneaks up behind me and whacks me over the head with a sledgehammer. I just sort of lost my ability to write this story, it was the strangest thing. So today, I just sat down, it's freezing in my dorm room because, surprise surprise, the heating is broken (for some reason, this occurs, like, every year, always when it gets cold!), and I just sat down and started writing, and found that I had my mojo back!! it's a really good feeling to be able to sit down and start writing again, and have something come out that your pleased with. Anyway, I'll stop boring you with the details of my crazy life. Do enjoy.  
  
***************** *****************  
  
Rincewind's eyes fluttered open to the warm yellow light of early morning. Gods, he was comfortable. Very. This was all at once unnatural and baffling. He closed his eyes, and the memory hit him. Slowly, as if afraid of what he might see, he looked down. He immediately averted his eyes to the ceiling. Had all that really happened? Just the way he remembered it? Did the scrawny, cowardly wizard really have the patrician of Ankh-Morpork curled up beside him, head on his shoulder, sleeping calmly, his warm breath caressing the wizard's bare collarbone? Rincewind looked down again. Vetinari's hair was tousled, hanging over his eyes, seeming to shave years off of his age. Vetinari's lips were slightly parted. Rincewind realized how pink they were, thin but delicate. Cute. Very cute.  
  
*CUTE?!?! What in all the hells am I thinking?!*  
  
*you're thinking you'd like to bonk him. or the other way around. Both are equally appetizing, don't you think?*  
  
*go away, you! I'm not listening to you! you got me into this mess!*  
  
*I got you blown, in a good way!*  
  
*but then what? I'll tell you what: he'll wake up, with a massive headache, due to all the wine he consumed, who knows how many bottles he went through before I got here! and then, and then, he'll see me! he'll see that we're. . . we're. . .*  
  
*scrumtuously unclothed?*  
  
*buck naked! What'll he think then? I'll tell you what he'll think: 'this wizard chap, he's in bed with me, he must have taken advantage of me in my drunken state! I think I'll have him tortured, then I'll have his head sawed off with a dull kitchen knife, and impale it on a pole as an example to the general public!' THAT's what he'll think!*  
  
*whoa, calm down there, tiger! You're blood pressure is off the charts. Just take a deep breath. . . slowly. . . there. Look on the bright side: if he is upset, maybe he'll let us off with a spanking!*  
  
*you. . . you. . . you're sick!*  
  
*sick is in the mind's eye of the beholder. I am YOUR libido, after all. . .*  
  
*don't you dare blame this on me! I'm leaving!*  
  
*already? But we haven't made it to home base yet!*  
  
*WE are going to do nothing of the sort! I am going to get out of here as inconspicuously as possible!*  
  
*okay, fine, just one thing before you leave,*  
  
*what is it. . .?*  
  
*just touch it, just once, for me. . .*  
  
Rincewind rubbed the heel of his free hand into his eyes. *why me?*  
  
*because-*  
  
*shut up.*  
  
he looked down at Vetinari again, ignoring the twangs of hesitation. Very slowly, he raised his arm which had previously been around Vetinari's shoulders, taking care that the patrician's head hit the pillow lightly. He gave a small grunt of difficulty. He hadn't noticed that Vetinari's arms were wound securely around his waist. He gave them a small, experimental shove. He then tried to work them apart, but for all his soft curses and tactical shifts, Vetinari's arms only seemed to hold him tighter. It was when he began to feel the breath leaving his lungs that he realized they *were* getting tighter.  
  
"what,"  
  
Rincewind gave a jerk.  
  
"on this great disc gave you the idea that you could leave? I certainly don't recall giving you permission." Vetinari opened his eyes and stared into Rincewind's.  
  
"er. . . well, I. . . you see. . ." he suddenly clasped his hands together over his heart, "please don't kill me!"  
  
the patrician let go of Rincewind's waist and levered himself up on his elbows, leaning his face close to the wizard's, "the very thought could not be further from my mind. Perhaps you take me for a fool that would stumble blindly into something he would later regret?"  
  
"n-no, of course not, it's just that-"  
  
Vetinari silenced him with a kiss, sucking lightly on Rincewind's lips. He kissed him again at the corner of his mouth and raised his head, "it may not be a terribly good idea to underestimate me." the patrician sat up and swung his legs over the bed. Rincewind tried not to let his eyes gravitate to Vetinari's anatomy. "or yourself." Vetinari added. He stood up, "now, I truly regret to have to leave, but there are, as always, pressing matters for me to attend to. I'm sure you understand."  
  
Rincewind lay back and nodded dumbly. At that moment, a curious tabby cat with bent whiskers and ears covered with blue fur jumped onto the bed, clawing at the covers and yawning. Rincewind's voice caught in his throat. He pointed at the animal, his mouth working in shock. "n-no!" was the only word he could manage.  
  
Vetinari looked over his shoulder, "oh, yes, her. I'd rather forgot to inquire if you knew about her curious little. . . characteristic."  
  
"no. . ."  
  
"I admit, it did strike me when I first found out."  
  
"no?"  
  
"it is rather an interesting, though long and involved story involving her mother, her father, a bucket of blue dye, the family cat and a rather nearsighted old witch. I believe a mackerel was involved somehow." Vetinari's eyes turned thoughtfully upward for a moment as he buttoned up his shirt.  
  
"no."  
  
"mrrow?"  
  
"no."  
  
"mrrt?"  
  
"no."  
  
"well, I see you two have plenty to talk about, and I do have a full schedule, so if you will excuse me," Vetinari finished buttoning his high- collared robe, which hung on him in shapeless folds, "I will have the servants deliver breakfast to you. I do hope we will convene again this evening, if you feel so inclined."  
  
"no."  
  
"enjoy your day."  
  
"no."  
  
Vetinari left, closing the door behind him.  
  
Rincewind lay prone on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. He wondered if he was perpetually in shock, or if he just thought he was, but got used to it after such hectic adventures as he was always being thrust into. He looked down at Brian, who was currently wandering among the mussed blankets, probing them for a good place to lay down. "I suppose you feel smug about all this. . ." he scowled at her.  
  
He couldn't be sure, but he could almost say that she had looked at him and grinned. She then flopped down, between his feet, leaning her back against his calf.  
  
Suddenly, the door swung open and a portly maid came in, bearing a tray piled high with toast, fruit, bacon, sausages, eggs and assorted condiments.  
  
With a squeak and impressive speed, Rincewind grabbed the hem of the nearest blanket and pulled it up to his neck, sending Brian head-over-paws in the process.  
  
"oh don't mind me, dear." Said the maid, gray strands of hair escaping from her cap, her face bearing good-natured lines, "it's so nice to see someone in the Lord's bed aside from himself. I imagine it's been *quite* awhile since our patrician's had a good tussle!"  
  
"b-but we didn't. . . I never. . ."  
  
"well, someone was, or were those sounds coming from the other room?"  
  
"s-sounds?"  
  
"indeed. Why, when I came to find out where all the staff had gotten to, they were clustered around that there door," she said, indicating the one she had come through, "giggling and gossiping, they were. Ah, young people, so enthusiastic!"  
  
Rincewind groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, causing Brian to tumble over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a 'thunk!'.  
  
"there, there, no need to get upset, we're all very proud of you," the maid patted blanket fondly in the approximate area of his head, "I do hope you stay with us longer. Oh, what am I doing, chit-chatting like this, must get going. Do have a nice day Mr. . . I don't believe I caught your name. . ."  
  
"rrnnwnn. . ."  
  
"pardon?"  
  
"rrrnswnnd. . ."  
  
"very well, Mr. Swin. Do enjoy yourself." She backed out of the room and closed the door behind her.  
  
Rincewind stayed under the covers, somehow hoping that it would make all the horrors of the world outside be less real. Of course, there was once such horror that really wasn't all that horrible. . . not at all in fact. . . Rincewind shook his head, trying to ban all thoughts of the patrician from his head.  
  
*denial is an ugly thing. . .*  
  
*bite me.*  
  
YOU KNOW, DENIAL REALLY IS AN UGLY THING.  
  
"you can bite me as well!"  
  
ARE YOU GOING TO EAT THAT?  
  
"yes! Go away!"  
  
FINE, AS YOU WISH. Death floated sulkily though the wall.  
  
Rincewind sighed, stood up and pulled on his trousers, which had been hanging from the mantle-piece. Despite his efforts, he couldn't prevent a wry smile from touching his lips.  
  
********************  
  
"were you *ever* planning on telling me you could turn into a cat?"  
  
Brian sniffed, "you never asked." She finished buckling the saddlebag onto Ostentatious's flank.  
  
Rincewind scuffed the hay-strewn stable floor with his foot, "oh, well, pardon me, I should have just come right up and asked 'oh, by the way, you wouldn't happen to be able to turn into a scruffy-looking tabby cat with crooked whiskers, would you?' must have slipped my mind."  
  
The short young woman threw him a sly look over her shoulder, "as I understand, that's not the only thing of yours that's rather slippery. . ."  
  
"what. . . what. . . what the bloody hell does that mean?!" his voice cracked with panic.  
  
"oh, nothing." She snickered, pulling herself onto her horse's back, narrowly avoiding falling over the other side into a pile of manure.  
  
Rincewind grumbled to himself, eyeing her bags, bulging and hanging with odd items, "I say, where's the Sapient Pear-dragon, or whatever it is you call him?" he asked out of purely morbid curiosity.  
  
"oh, I leave him here with Lucky when I travel abroad. That way, if he or anyone else ever needs to reach me, they can send the dragon. The little bugger could find me in the darkest, deepest dungeons of the dwarves!" she crowed proudly.  
  
"oh. Well, I imagine he'd have to, wouldn't he?"  
  
she leaned down toward him, "sarcasm will get you nowhere."  
  
She overbalanced and fell off.  
  
Sighing, Rincewind turned and stalked out of the stables, Brian's curses echoing in her ears.  
  
His footsteps, matched by his guard, echoed hollowly through the corridors. The early evening light stretched through the windows, just beginning to take on an orange tinge. He leaned on the sill of one of them, looking out over the sprawl of Ankh-Morpork. It really wasn't so ugly, from here. Of course, it would have to be ugly from anywhere, but less so from the palace, looking down on the richer neighborhoods, and toward the larger city where torches were just beginning to be lit on storefronts and restaurant windows.  
  
Blowing a raspberry at the whole scene, he continued wandering aimlessly down the corridor, taking twists and turns at random. He came to a set of double doors, open wide to the richly furnished corridor. Rincewind tossed a look inside as he walked past. Then stopped, turned around, and peered in again.  
  
"ah, Mr. Rincewind. How thoughtful of you to think to visit me." Vetinari stood up behind his desk and beckoned the wizard inside.  
  
Rincewind shuffled in and looked about him at what could only be the Oblong Office. "nice office."  
  
"thank you. It does well to suit my purposes." Vetinari picked up a sheaf of papers he had been examining, tapped them on the desktop to even them out, and placed them carefully in an impeccably organized drawer. He gestured toward Rincewind's guard with a hand, and the wizard soon found himself alone in the oblong office with the patrician of Ankh-Morpork, with the doors closed.  
  
"ummm, nice view from the windows, here." said Rincewind, trying to ignore the feeling of Vetinari's eyes on his back, and the subsequent stirring in his breeches.  
  
"really? I seldom take the time to appreciate it. perhaps I should take more time out of my day in order to. . . appreciate the circumstances under which I often find myself."  
  
Rincewind felt the slightest brush of fingers across his behind. His knuckles went white gripping the window sill, trying to maintain some sense of control over his impulses, all of which told him to turn around, fling his arms around the skinny, dark-haired man that stood behind him, and fondle him like there was no tomorrow.  
  
*why ever not? it's not like he'd object. . .*  
  
*but. . . but this is his office! It would be. . . it would be. . .*  
  
*terribly exciting! And that desk. . . dark cherry-wood, isn't it? A fine grain, too. I wonder what it would be like to be-*  
  
*GAAAAH! Shut up! now!*  
  
*ok, fine, I'll just go and entertain myself by stimulating your genitals, how would that be?*  
  
*why you. . .*  
  
before Rincewind could come up with a fitting insult for his libido, Vetinari slipped his arms around his waist and rested his chin upon his bony shoulder. "I find it continually difficult to put into words this strange. . . magnetism you seem to hold."  
  
"er, well, no offense, but you seem to be the only person who thinks so."  
  
"I see no problems with. . . selective charisma." Vetinari slid his hand into the front of Rincewind's robe and grasped the wizard's shirt, pulling it up and running his cool fingers over Rincewind's warm flesh, playing idly with the sparse brown hair on the wizard's chest.  
  
Rincewind let out a small groan and leaned his head back, pressing the side of his face against Vetinari's neck, his hat flopping to the floor.  
  
************ *A little while later. . .* Groaning at the necessity for motion, Rincewind stood up and located his pants, pulling them on. Vetinari found his drawers and trousers and straightened his robe. Giving each other a look-over to see that nothing had been neglected, they headed toward the door, Vetinari opening it.  
  
standing outside were several guards and about half the castle staff, blushing and looking at the floor.  
  
Scarcely batting an eyelid, Vetinari asked, "is there something I can do to help you?"  
  
exchanging guilty looks, the mass attempted to slink away without being noticed, muttering excuses.  
  
"er, just thought you might want. . . er. . . some hot towels."  
  
"just, um, making sure you didn't need anything."  
  
"well, you never know when someone will make an assassination attempt, sir, just guarding the door. . ."  
  
"I was. . . um. . . keeping 'im company."  
  
Vetinari nodded to the dispersing company, "well, thank you for your concern. I shall retire now, if there are no more pressing matters?"  
  
". . ."  
  
"very good. Come, Mr. Rincewind."  
  
His face beet-red, Rincewind followed him down the hall.  
  
*************  
  
Rincewind sighed, blinking his eyes open at the morning light. He found that a long-fingered hand was slowly stroking the side of his face. He looked over to see Vetinari staring at him.  
  
"er, good morning. . ."  
  
"you left a mark, you know."  
  
"I. . . I what?"  
  
Vetinari tapped the side of his neck where the red bite mark was still visible with a slender forefinger.  
  
"oh, er, sorry about that. I. . . erm. . . I sort of lost control for a moment there. . ."  
  
"that's all right."  
  
"oh. Good." Rincewind studied Vetinari's eyes for a moment, "um . . . is everything. . . is everything all right?"  
  
"you're free to go."  
  
Rincewind blinked as the thought settled in. free? To go where? Was he *supposed* to want to go somewhere?  
  
Vetinari's eyes shifted toward the ceiling, "I straightened out the details yesterday afternoon. We've located the merchants responsible for putting out the various contracts out on your life. They've all been arrested for conspiracy to murder. Which means it's safe for your to leave."  
  
"no offense, but I don't believe this world likes it if I'm ever 'safe'."  
  
Vetinari gave a small smile and nodded. "will you leave?"  
  
"uh. . . well, that is. . . um. . . will I?"  
  
"I won't stop you. If you wish to stay, however. . ." Vetinari trailed off, turning to look at Rincewind once more.  
  
The wizard turned away, his eyes drawn to the window, beyond which he could just see the rooftops of the city. What would his life be like if he stayed? He would have comfortable accommodations, to be sure. . . he would be protected, and have the company of the patrician every night. it would be delightfully boring. . . but. . . what would his value be other than the patrician's pleasure object? Would that be his sole purpose? To dwell by himself during the day, and wait in the 'master's' bed at night?  
  
"I think. . . I think I shall return to the Unseen University. Take up my job as assistant librarian again."  
  
Vetinari nodded. He sighed once and sat up, throwing the covers from his legs and standing.  
  
"well, I can arrange for a carriage to take you there. If you would like any monetary compensation for the inconvenience of being waylaid here. . ."  
  
Rincewind shuddered involuntarily, "no, no money, please. . ." he suddenly felt that he was in a room with a stranger, someone he hardly knew at all. Who was Vetinari anyway? Who could possibly get close to someone that secretive? Gods, was he really considering 'getting close' to him? *I really do need to get out of here. . .* he thought to himself.  
  
"of course." Vetinari dressed and paused with his hand on the door handle, "well, I would like to. . . express my thanks for. . ." Vetinari faltered, staring at the floor. He abruptly straightened, looking Rincewind in the eye, his face closed off, the face of a politician, "goodbye, Mr. Rincewind." He left, closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
the luggage creaked speculatively.  
  
"oh, shut up, you."  
  
*he's got a point.*  
  
"you can shut up too."  
  
*fine.*  
  
"fine."  
  
*fine*  
  
"fine."  
  
*fine.*  
  
"I wonder how much doctors charge for castration."  
  
*you wouldn't dare!*  
  
"just don't push it."  
  
*fine.*  
  
"fine." Rincewind stood up and got dressed, gathering the few belongings that had been in his pockets. He thrust his hat on his head and gestured toward the luggage, "come on, you, it's time to go."  
  
**************  
  
"is that it?" you ask, "are you going to just *leave* them like that?!" you ask, "how could you, you stupid bitch!" well, before you get your dander up (PUT that torch and pitchfork down, RIGHT NOW!) I should inform you that no, I'm not going to just leave our boys all unhappy like this. I can't really do unhappy endings, they make me depressed. So, ANY-way, I will be writing another romance involving these two, that takes place after this story. It will not be a humor story, however, and will be much more serious and dark than this story. However, it will resolve the issues set forth by "the politics of. . .", and will feature the return of Brian the Annoying. (sorry, for those of you who don't like her, I just find that annoying characters are fun to write for! Hell, take a look at Nobby. . .)  
  
sooooooo, the unabridged version of the fic will be up soon, now that it's completed, and I must warn you, I got myself laughing while writing the sex scenes, and had waaaaaay too much fun doing it! I hope y'all aren't disappointed. And I hope you enjoyed the story! 


End file.
